The Cat's Meow
by Dr. Toast
Summary: John receives a visit from a peculiar black cat that insists on keeping him company. Post Reichenbach and really short.


It was mid-morning on a Tuesday and in the living room sat a very bored and very sad John Watson. He had a cup of cold tea on the table next to him and a wrinkled copy of the paper. Staring at the words on the page his mind wandered off. He tried to think of other things besides Sherlock, but nothing seemed to work and once or twice he may have gotten teary eyed. Running a hand through his sandy blonde hair with a sigh John stood up to open the windows, it was getting to stuffy. Everything was different; it had been quite a long time since John had really laughed. No one could understand the ache in his heart, his best friend was gone. John tugged at the hem of his jumper and walked back to the chair after the windows were opened. Mrs. Hudson had been kind enough to leave him in privacy, only coming in to make him a comforting cup of tea. John appreciated everyone's sympathy, Molly had even been kind enough to call to check up on him, but nothing would quell the sharp pain he constantly felt because of the absence of that insufferable prick. That annoying, irritating, wonderful, funny prick. Why did he have to go? John slammed his fist against the table beside him making his teacup rattle; small tears began forming in his eyes.

"That asshole," John muttered under his breath as he wiped the small tears from his eyes with his sleeve "why did he leave me!" John said in frustration. He really did miss Sherlock. John sat in silence his head resting in his right hand. He only looked up when he noticed a blur of black pass in the corner of his eye by the window. "Sherlock?" John subconsciously asked aloud. No it couldn't have been he jumped a bit when he felt something rub up against his leg, and he looked down to see a black cat. It must have been one of the neighbor's. Picking up the cat and bringing to the window sill John tried to shoo it away. It only came back into the flat. John decided to let it wander around; it would probably go home when it got hungry. It had been hours and the only thing it did was sit in Sherlock's chair and stare at John where ever he went. John was cleaning up around the kitchen when he saw the cat jump off the chair and make its way onto the table where a few of Sherlock's experiments still sat. John didn't have the heart to box everything up quite yet. The cat stared at the microscope and then looked back up at John.

John was completely baffled at the cat. It never left and it stayed with John for two days so far. It slept only in Sherlock's room and John swore the cat had mocked him more than once. Once John was trying to figure out where he had misplaced his watch and when he went to open a drawer in the kitchen the he thought for a moment he had seen the cat had jeer at him for being foolish. Then it looked over at another drawer. Over time John had just taken in the cat, he brought home food for bother of them and he found himself talking to it at times. On one occasion John was reading an article from the newspaper about a kidnapping case that sounded like something he and Sherlock would pursue. He read aloud who they thought to be the kidnapper and he was positive he saw the cat scoffed in an arrogant manner and weeks later the police had found the real kidnapper. He was bewildered that a cat could be that smart.

The two became as thick as thieves. And sometimes Mrs. Hudson worried John would only spend his free time with the cat. John would come home from work and relay his day to his cat, newly named Tuesday because John was terrible at thinking of names for pets. At one point when he was a boy they had a dog named Gladstone because he had named him. John was fondly reminded of Sherlock whenever Tuesday strutted into a room his head held high. He really was a smart cat. He had allowed the cat to sleep in bed with him and they would curl up together on cold nights and John would idly pet his head has he tried to fall asleep. On some accounts John was so sure he had seen Sherlock lying beside him when he woke up in the middle of the night half conscious. But it couldn't have been he had told himself it was just his imagination or he was dreaming. But nevertheless John was comforted by the cat every day and he couldn't help but feel that he was being watched over and protected. It was probably just the comforting fact that there was something waiting for him at the end of every day to make him feel like an idiot, but also to make him feel happy.

AN/ I'm so sorry if this is bad I wrote this at 2:45 am and I'll probably resubmit a better version I dunno. I'm so sorry.


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